Just call me Master
by Elin-Darling
Summary: Something had to happen in those ten, briefly mentioned years. A series of oneshots dealing with occurances in Integra's childhood after finding Alucard.
1. Suggestions for Master

I realize I haven't updated This Thing Called Life in awhile, but Annie and Seth are annoying me. As much as I love Duchess's world, I need a break from it. I need to explore my own world in writing. Also, I've had this idea for a series of one-shots for awhile. There's too much fanfiction about what happens _after _the start of Hellsing. What about backstory? Things had to have happened in those ten years. And now, pretties, I'm going to share those stories with you.

Enjoy, and, as always, review! I love you all.

Disclaimer :By the way. I'm sure you can figure this out on your own, but I don't own Hellsing. Sadly.

**Suggestions For Master**

Sunshine streamed in. Birds were chirping. A cool, soft spring breeze was making the leaves dance in the trees. Flowers bloomed, with morning dew still on their leaves. Soft, white, fluffy clouds were floating in the sky. All around, the happy tidings of spring were manifesting themselves. Everything was the picture of peaceful perfection. Except for one thing.

The young Integra's alarm clock was going off.

Loudly.

Right. In. Her. Ear.

Groaning, she rolled over and hit the offending noisemaker, perhaps harder than was necessary. However, if you've ever experienced such an occurance yourself, you would most like be inclined to extend your sympathies. Actually, you'd probably sit there rooting her on and offering her more..destructive items to use on it. Nevertheless, the obnoxious noise was quickly silenced, and Integra rolled out of bed. She smoothed down her night gown and daintily stood before her closet. Out of habit, she reached for a blouse and skirt. Then, as an afterthought, grabbed a dress-suit jacket as well. She dressed quickly, brushed her hair, adjusted her glasses, and hurried downstairs for her breakfast.

0o0o0o

Our heroine was right in the middle of taking a sip of Orange Juice when the room dropped just a few degrees. Her brow furrowed. It couldn't be the vampire, could it? No. He wouldn't be up at this time. Her father had always taught her that vampires go to sleep when the sun rises. Her father wouldn't have lied to her, and he couldn't possibly be wrong. So it must be the air conditioner. She opened her mouth to call out for her trusted butler.

"Wal-"

"If you need anything, my master, I should be willing to take care of it for you."

Shoot. So it _was_ the vampire, after all. Integra was not at all amused. She wasn't sure yet if she liked this...creature...man...servant..thing who'd come to take up residence in her home. Of course, he'd obviously always _been_ there, but she hadn't always _known._ She didn't know who to curse most: Her father, for not telling her; her uncle, for forcing her down there in the first place; or Walter, for keeping her father's secret. Still, it was pointless casting blame at the moment. No matter who was most at fault, there was still this arrogant vampire interupting her breakfast. He must be dealt with before she could peacefully partake of her morning nourishment and have any particularly venemous thoughts about any of them. She had a pretty good idea that the vampire could pick up some of her thoughts, and she didn't want him to think she thought anything but the best about her family and trusted family servant. Well, at least her father and Walter, anyway. She didn't particularly care if he knew how much ill-will she held towards The Traitor. She knew he didn't like, him, either.

"What are _you _doing up?" she asked him coldly.

He shrugged." I wanted to see how you functioned in your newly acquired position."

"I'm doing just fine, thank you." She sniffed and went back to eating.

He grinned. "So the council members are giving you due respect? You are, after all...less than intimidating."

Integra bristled. " I'm doing just fine, thank you."

"What a multi-purpose answer. You've used it twice in such a short period of time. Tell me, didn't they teach you any other responses with that private education they must have been giving you? Or did your governess feel all you needed to know was pleasantries?"

Integra took offense to this. "My father personally oversaw my education."

"Ah. That would explain it. Even Islands would agree, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Capable, competant, and shrewdly intelligent, but no one ever accused him of being able to hold a proper conversation. He loved his drink too much."

The young girl was agast. How dare he say such things about her father? He had been the greatest man she'd ever met before he died! And certainly better than this creature that stood before her, speaking ill of him.

"...But then, time does change people, I suppose," Alucard went on. " And that young wife of his was a visible good influence on him. Pity. He was much more fun when he was always half-drunk. Still, I can't imagine him being a very good teacher to anyo--"

"Will you just shut up?!" Integra exclaimed, cutting him off.

Alucard was cut out of his reflective musings, but not without a smile at his new master's outburst. "Oh-ho! So the cat does have claws. How delightful!"

Integra had had quite enough of her "servant," and she resolved to tell him so. "If you are truly bound to my orders, then tell me what is on your mind, the thing you came here for, refrain from insulting my father, and then kindly remove yourself from my presence. You've spoiled the lovely breakfast I was having." She glared at him as best she could over top of her large, round glasses. He laughed at her.

"You'd best work on that glare, master, if you intend for anyone to feel threatened any time in the near future. Where's the spark and spunk with which you stood up to your uncle? Ah well. I suppose a more permanent development of that should come in time. Just look how your father started out, after all." Something seemed to greatly amuse him, but Integra was only annoyed. He'd already said too many horrible things about her beloved father already, and she wasn't going to ask anything that may give him permission to say more. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Yes, yes. Get on with it. Obviously you had _something _you wished to say." She primly turned back to her food, which was beginning to grow cold.

As if reading her mind, he gestured to her plate. "Eat your breakfast."

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped. He shrugged, apparently uncaring about what she did. "What do you want?" she asked again.

Alucard gave her another cheshire-cat grin. "Why does my master continue to wear a skirt, I wonder?"

"I'm a proper English young lady. Proper English young ladies wear skirts."

" A proper young lady no longer. Proper young ladies do not run vampire hunting orginizations. They are not the heads of families. The wait for their prince to come along and save them in everything. Tell me, Master, is that what you wish for? Do you wish to be saved?"

" I can save myself." She didn't mention how his involvement in the fiasco with her unlce had, in fact, been crucial.

"Indeed. So young and already able to kill her own family."

Integra felt her eyes grow hard. Oh, she hated to be angry, but he was such a nuisance! She wished her father was there. He'd make him behave and speak to her properly. But the late Sir Hellsing wasn't there. She'd have to learn to deal with him on her own.

"Perhaps I should be less discriminatory with a gun. Perhaps I should personally start eliminating vampires."

He laughed. "Oh, you wouldn't want to kill me, little master. I'm much too great of an asset to you."

Integra didn't really want to get rid of him anyway. In the dungeons, that first day, a sort of alliance had been formed. And although he was bothering her, he kept a sense of levity around that she didn't have otherwise. They weren't "friends", but he was perhaps the closest thing she had to one, next to Walter. And really, who was ever friends with the butler?

"And as such, you should give me suggestions, not insults."

"First suggestion, then. Switch to suits."

"Pardon?"

"Suits. They'll gain you more respect. Find some, or rather have some made, that will hide your figure. They'll know you to be a woman, but there will be a greater air of authority. Not to mention they'd be far more comfortable, and practical, for field work."

Integra grimaced. "That's horrible."

"Horrible but true. Trust me, it will be worth it."

Integra pursed her lips. The idea did have merit, but she wasn't going to say so. Not right away. "I'd need time to consider. And ask Walter. Now, I've had enough of your presence, and my food is cold. Leave." Then, as an after thought (should she be polite to such a monster? Especially after the things he'd said.)" Please."

He vanished into the walls, laughing. She scowled.

Turning back to her meal, she sighed and took it back to the kitchen to be reheated.

0o0o0o

Nothing more was said on the matter of clothing, but Alucard noted with satisfaction that within a week tailors had been summoned to his young master's chamber with patterns of pant-suits in hand. Maybe when she got older he'd introduce the concept of "Armani" to her. Ah, nothing would beat having a fashionable master for once. Abraham's sense of style was non-existant, and Arthur's wasn't much better, although both were handsome enough to make up for this shortcoming in human's eyes. Now, if the Hellsing genes bred true...

She was certainly bound to be attractive.

A devious smile crossed his face. That would have to wait.

For now.


	2. Dracula's Secret

A/N: I'm so happy that this story is liked, so far. There's been a slight change of plans, though. After writing the first chapter, I fell in love with the idea of basing the entire story around Alucard's suggestions to her in this time period. It's going to become a story showing how he shaped her into the person she became. He's giving her rules to live by, and for one reason or another, she takes them to heart.

Disclaimer: Hellsing isn't mine. It's owned by an Asian guy by the name of Kohta Hirano. If you didn't already know that, now you do. Congratulations.

Now, do I need to tell you all to review or are you going to do it because you love me?

**Dracula's Secret**

The fireplace was alive with flames that danced back and forth, crackling and casting their soft glow about the room. Shadows flickered over soft leather bindings of well loved books, some of them covered with dust, some cracking along the very edges despite the care with which they had been previously handled. The lettering on titles had begun to fade in some places, worn away where hands had rested so many times. Many were lined up, cover to cover, on bookshelves lining the room; others rested on a coffee table in the center of a ring of well-placed Victorian-style chairs. Indeed, the three peices _had_ come from that era, back when the family this room belonged to had first come to their noble status. Two arm chairs sat on either side of a love seat, all made with supple brown leather.

In one of those chairs sat a girl, barely into her teens. The light from the fire also illuminated her face, reflecting off the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her blonde hair fell gently around her face, shielding it from view to an onlooker on the profile side. In her hands was a book, the most well-loved and worn of them all. Both covers were soft still, a result of the special treatment this particular book had recieved. The pages were yellowed with age, but they were far from brittle. It was the girl's favorite, one that had been read to her before she was able to read it to herself; once she was able, she read it at every oportunity. Her hand shifted some, revealing the title: _Dracula_.

For quite some time she sat there, shifting every so often. A few times she moved her hand to rearrange her skirt. Each time she met with soft cloth, but unlike she was acustomed to. For the article of clothing she ended up tugging at was not a skirt, but a pair of pants, recently acquired. True, they were comfortable, but she was as yet unused to her legs being completely confined in cloth. Although the sensation was strange, she had to admit that the idea was a good one. She giggled. It had really thrown the other knights for a loop. Sighing, she would curl up in a different position and resume her reading.

All good and peaceful things must come to an end, however, so she wasn't at all suprised when that vampire entered the room. She didn't see him at first, but she could hear his coat rustling as he walked into the room. The air grew colder and her skin was suddenly covered in goosebumps. Everytime he entered a room, it was like he brough tidings of death with him. Steeling herself, she pretended to ignore him, refusing to acknowledge his presence. She could just feel that evil smirk crossing his face as he surveyed her new clothing. A low chuckle escaped him.

"What a good, obidient master you are."

She closed her book gently, minding her grip and keeping it from damaging the old peice of literature as it tightened in anger. It was one of the original copies, and over her dead body would she allow him to cause her to hurt it.

"And what an arrogant servant you are."

"One tries one's best," he replied, offering a mocking little bow. "Although, I should think I have the right."

"And just what makes you believe that?"

"Why, master, because I serve _you_. And only the best are able to serve the Hellsings, isn't that correct?"

Integra pursed her lips. She folded her arms and her brow furrowed. A moment passed, and she outright scowled at him. He laughed in return.

'You're getting there, little girl. Someday you'll be able to absolutely terrify whomever you choose with one glance. Excepting myself, of course."

"Because you're the high and mighty vampire that is so above all other creatures you have nothing to fear, correct?"

"Essentially."

"You're no more immortal than I. You just require a little more specific wounds."

"While you're correct in that I am immortal, you would be suprised just how specific those wounds would have to be. I'm not like the vampires your father taught you about growing up. In fact, I myself don't know how I could be killed."

Integra rolled her eyes. "Am I supposed to be impressed? Futhermore, am I supposed to believe that?"

He shrugged, that cold, mocking grin spreading over his face once again. "Believe what you wish." He stopped, then gestured to the book she was reading when he had entered. " Are you very interested in the classics?" His wry tone suggested he found something ironically amusing in all of it. She refrained from commenting, as she normally did.

"That one is my favorite. And its furthur proof you aren't as terrible as you think you are."

"Oh?"

"Dracula was the greatest vampire ever, and he was defeated much more simply than you think would be required for your defeat."

"Was he, now?"

"Quincey Morris and Jonathan Harker killed him. Even the great Dracula died in the end. You should know that. Unless you've never read it." A sneer had crept into her voice. It was one of the early signs of a great irony : This creature, one of those monsters that she had been trained to despise since birth, was rubbing off on her.

" And what, may I ask, makes you think he died?"

" He turned to dust." She stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, uncomprimising in her belief that in this, at least, he would not prove her wrong.

"Ashes to ashes, Dust..." His body started fading, then was completely gone. Only swirls showed his journey to the far corner of the room, where he rematerialized into a more substantial form." ...to dust."

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. If he could turn himself into dust at will, then...

No. It wasn't possible. It simply _was not _possible.

"You see, Dracula was indeed defeated in the end. But it wasn't by Quincey Morris and Jonathan Harker. Your ancestor, Van Helsing, thought it better to leave them peacefully ignorant. For this reason, Stoker never recieved the end of the story. Suggestion number two, dear Sir Hellsing : Don't believe everything you read."

He turned to leave the room entirely, then stopped again when she called out to him.

"If_ they _didn't defeat him, who did?"

He gave her a toothy smirk. "Why, Van Helsing himself did, after tracking him down and finding him in a cemetary later. But he didn't kill him. Instead, he felt there was a greater insult, a greater punishment, and a much better use for him. He enslaved him, forever binding him in service to the Hellsing family."

An audible gasp was heard as the implications of this clicked in Integra's mind.

"Suggestion three: Learn just who exactly it is that serves you." Without another word, he turned and left, phasing through the wall.

Integra remained, staring in shock and horror at the book she had been enjoying not so long before.


	3. Hellsing UpForGrabs

A/N

I cannot express how elated I am at the reviews I've gotten thus far. Especially all the ones I've gotten on the last chapter. I'm almost too giddy to write, but I'm loving the attention, so write I will.

Don't own Hellsing, don't own Eleanor Roosevelt, and I don't own PoTC. But, man, it was too great of a line to pass up.

**Hellsing Up-For-Grabs**

Every child is surrounded by voices.

For the fortunate ones, day in and day out, voices of adults surround that child and guide them, direct them in their journey through their adolecence, and nuture them. Those voices are loving, and sometimes stern, in an effort to build them up to their full potential. They influence them to learn to make their own decisions. They want the child to become independent, and to this end, they entrust a responsibility to the child. Some times small, and sometimes very large.

Integral Fairbrooke Wingates Hellsing was not amoung their number.

You see, Integral Fairbrooke Wingates Hellsing was one of those caught in a power struggle. Her father had been so kind as to die while she was still just barely into her teens, and she had been left as the heir to a multi-million dollar organization with a shady reputation. That being said, those who were now her contemporaries were more than eager to have control of it, and made no great secret of their intentions, although they presented them in such a way as to make the young heiress believe herself incapable of handling her own affairs. Normally, Integra was a strong-willed individual, but with so many more experienced than her surrounding her, she was losing her confidence.

The girl-child was starting to believe them.

0o0o0o0o

"So you see, Integral, Hellsing would be much more secure for the time being if you would only allow one of us to handle the more tedious affairs; the finances, the casualty rates, the logistics..."

Integra bit her lip. As the men continued to drone on, she reflected on her position. It seemed clear every one of them were more qualified to lead than she. In fact, they were all making it perfectly clear that even a chimp would be more qualified. At first, she had been indignant at such a suggestion. Why would her father name her as his successor if he didn't believe that she was capable? But as the days wore on, the men started making more sense. She didn't know what she was doing. She barely knew how much money she had in the bank at any given time. It didn't occur to her that she would know so much more if not for these self-same men making perfectly sure that she was kept in the dark about the more crucial matters in an attempt to break down her conviction. It was working beautifully.

"Integra? Integra, are you listening?"

Her head snapped up. " Yes, sir. I was merely thinking over your generous offer, and-"

"She cannot accept at the moment. She will get back to you at a later time." A deep, silky voice finished for her. Integra didn't need to look to identify the one it belonged to. Her flesh rose in bumps on the back of her neck as the air chilled behind her. Her mouth went dry as the weight of a hand settled itself on the back of the chair Integra was sitting in, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the red material of a certain coat, scarlet as dried blood.

Fear was overridden by anger, however, and Integra felt her eyes go hard. How dare he presume to make her decisions for her?

"You allow this creature to speak on your behalf, Integra?" One of the knights -she couldn't remember which- asked in suprise.

"No." she replied flatly.

"Allow or not," the vampire smoothly interjected, " It is my duty as a servant to the Hellsing family to look out for their best intrests and make sure no one takes advantage of her. My master will think over all you have had to say, and will notify each of you when she comes to her decision."

There were murmurs all around the room from each of the various noblemen. None of them had counted on the vampire taking an intrest. Their hoodwinking had just gotten a lot harder.

"What do you say to this, Integra?"

"I...I do believe that although it came from this monster, I should follow this suggestion." She straigtened a little in her chair, wincing as her hair got caught on the back of the seat and pulling it some. " For now, these meetings of ours will be adjourned until I have had a chance to process all of your offers."

The scraping of chairs was audible around the room. Each of the men stood, nodded to each other, and excused themselves with 'Have a good evening's to Integra. She returned the sentiments, but remained seated. As they filed out of the room, she became painfully aware of how much cleaner the air was becoming. The colone she hadn't quite noticed earlier was now overloading her senses, and she gagged. So many men wearing so many brands...

When the last man had left the room, Integra whirled around in her chair, eyes flashing.

"How..How _**dare **_you?" she snarled at the vampire, who stood casually leaning against the wall behind her.

"How dare I what?" he inquired lazily, examining the fingertips of his glove for dirt.

"How dare you presume to speak for me?"

The monster cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise showed no distraction from his task. "It was, as I said to the others, in your best intrest."

"It isn't your place to decide that!" she shrieked. "Can't I do anything without someone making decisions for me?!"

The vampire lost all pretense of preoccupation, and gazed upon her, eyes glowing red and mouth contorting downwards in displeasure.

"That is exactly what I wished to remind you of," he told her, voice dangerously low and calm, with anger seeping into the edges. "You are a Hellsing, and yet here you sit, allowing eleven pompus and greedy men to make you feel inferior. I didn't stop Richard's bullet so you could hand them control of this orginazation on a silver platter."

Integra stood with fists clenched, prepared to deliever a scathing retort, then stopped and slumped back down into her seat. She sat speechless for a time, allowing his words to sink in. She'd let her father down, she just knew it. She had killed her own uncle because he tried to take the headship from her, and here she was, about to give it away. She dropped her face into her hands in a gesture of defeat. A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another on its oppisite.

"He'd be mad, wouldn't he? I'm not making him proud at all, am I?" she whispered, lip quivering.

"Stop crying." His voice was emotionless, a simple command. At any other time, she might tell him that he was out of line for commanding her, but at this moment, it only served to make her feel more awful. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, and sniffed.

"Now," he continued, " you still have a choice. On the one hand, you can continue to allow them to push you down, and give away everything your family has worked for."

"But they make me feel so..so..." Her voice was cracked and broken.

"Incompetant? Inferior?"

Integra nodded miserably.

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

"Eleanor Roosevelt said that."

"She was right."

She considered his words. After a moment or two, she cleared her throat. "So what's my other option?"

"Your other option is to decide that you alone are going to run Hellsing, and they are of no consequence. You can show them that they will not break you, and will not interfere in your business. Make the queen your ally; force them to step back. Her Majesty has already recognized you as the family head. Use that. Remind them that you have royal favor and protection. In short, tell them to go to H--"

Integra cut him off, waving her hand. "Don't use words like that. Not around a lady."

"I shall remember that next time I am in the presence of a lady. As I recall, I've explained to you that you are one no longer. I also recall hearing a certain little girl in the ventalation shafts above my dungeon using stronger profanity than I was about to."

A slight tinge of red rose in the cheeks of the young heiress, then quickly disappeared as she started laughing. Her earlier tears were forgotten.

" Let's keep that secret, alright? I don't think Walter would approve."

A low chuckle escaped the vampire as well. She turned once again to look at him, and found that he had moved little. He still remained leaning against the wall, but now his arms were folded across his chest and a bemused smile played at his lips. "As you wish."

"So...do I need to tell you my choice now, or...?"

"You needn't tell me anything, little master. But here is my fourth suggestion to you : Decide where you stand. Not in this issue alone, but in everything. If you don't make that decision, you'll be easily swayed."

"Alright. You can go, then."

"As you wish, little master." She could hear the soft material of his coat swish as he straightened, and started disappearing into the wall.

"Wait!" She cried, a moment too late. He had already vanished. "Could you stop calling me 'little master'?" she muttered into the empty air. "My name's Integra."

_If you shall stop calling me "the monster" or 'the vampire." You asked my name in the dungeon. If you wish me to call you by your given name, than you must address me by mine._

Integra glanced about the room. Her eyes traveled to every corner, trying to locate the location of the voice. She even went so far as to stand and physically move about, checking behind chairs and under the table. Suddenly, a lesson with her father on mental capabilities of a vampire shook itself awake and emerged into the forefront of her mind. Realizing what a fool she was for not remembering his strange abilities, she smirked at herself.

"Very well,_ Alucard_."

0o0o0o0o0o

Integra strode into the conferance room. All of the other knights were already there, seated and awaiting her entrance. She reached her seat and stood before it.

Her hands rose from their place at her sides and rubbed themselves briskly together. "Gentlemen," she started. "I've come to a decision."

They all leaned foward, ever so slightly, in their seats. Their eagar anticipation was apparent in their faces as they stared at her intently. She inwardly laughed at their forthcoming disappointment.

"I've decided that I will fufill the role my father left behind for me, caring for his investments and ventures. His shoes will be hard to fill, but I am certain that I can more than adequately handle the duties laid out for me not only by him, but by Her Majesty. I look foward to working with each of you as my contemporaries and moving towards making the future of England secure for generations to come."

The men glanced about at each other. More than a few of their tongues' tips ran across their bottom lips. Eyebrows raised; bodies shifted. A moment of awkward silence passed before Sir Islands spoke out on all of their behalf, trying to find a way to salvage their plans.

"Integra, I would ask that you allow us to help you as you reach to acheive these goals."

"I am disinclined to acquise to your request." She looked out at him over her glasses at his flabberghasted face. "That means no."

"I'm...not quite sure we understand your intentions, Integra."

She looked at them in mock suprise, eyebrows high and eyes wide. She put her fore-finger up to her chin and pretended to think for a moment. "Let's see if I can make this more clear, then."

Integra took her seat for the first time since entering the room. She crossed her legs, rested her elbows on the table, folded her hands, and placed her chin atop them. She peered out at the group from over her glasses' rims, and a slow, sarcastic smile spread across her face.

"Keep your greedy gloved hands away from this originization. _Hellsing is mine."_

_Brava, Integra._

0o0o0o0o

While Integra gave her stunning and intimidating performance, she didn't notice the glowing eyes in the shadow of the room; nor did she notice when they left. She did, however, hear his silent, mental message to her. The grin on her face spread.

0o0o0o

Alucard resolidified in the hallway outside the room. His footsteps were soft as he traveled down the carpeted hall, unhurried and graceful. Soon, another pair fell into step beside him.

"Hello, old friend. Haven't seen much of you since my release."

"I'm afraid not," the butler responded. "Although you seem to have plenty of interaction with Miss Integra."

"Hmm." Alucard continued to walk steadily, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Walter took no offense; after such a long association, he had become used to Alucard's indifferent mannerisms. More than once he had reflected on the vampire'a attitude, and had come to the conclusion that after a few centuries, nothing would seem more than mildly interesting.

"One wonders what you're trying to achieve," He pressed on, voice carefully kept between casualness and prompting.

"Should I be trying to achieve anything?" The disinterest remained in his voice. Walter studied his face out of the corner of his eye. His face was slack, and his eyes betrayed his thoughts to be far away from the present conversation.

"You never took such intrest in the girl's father."

" Arthur was a fool. There was nothing about him worth noting, and no redeeming qualities that would make him command my attention. When he first became my master, he was an adult. Integra is a child, full of possibilities. I'm shaping her, Walter, molding her into a master worthy of me." Alucard turned his face slightly so he could catch Walter's eye. An eyebrow raised, as if to say, _wouldn't you agree, Angel of Death?_

"Don't do it to her."

"Do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"What you did to me. Don't take away her innocence. Don't make her a killer."

"No," Alucard responded quietly, shaking his head. "No. Not to her. She's full of life and passion, as were you. But she is a leader, not an assasain. Her spirit is that of a fighter, but because she will decide who lives and who dies, she must not lose that core of human emotion. It is that very emotion that will make her magnificent."

"And after you've made her into what you wish?" Walter's voice came out colder than he perhaps intended, but at the moment, his patientce was running thin. He knew his old friend too well to think that it would all stop after Integra had reached the limits of her potential. If Alucard wished to test those limits, he may break her, and Walter knew he wasn't above doing so. The vampire was like a child in some respects; give him a new toy and he'll play with it to see what it can do, and then try to make it do things it can't.

"Then I will reap the benefits."

Walter gave him a sidelong glance. A statement like that could mean anything. Anything, but Walter knew his old friend too well to let it pass, and he had a good idea where the vampire's mind was focused. He wasn't fond of Alucard's way of toying with emotions. As in the analogy of a child and it's new toy, Alucard spell disaster to the young girl if he went too far. He decided to take steps to dissuade him from that line of action.

"She won't accept you. She's been trained from birth to regard the vampire as her natural enemy."

A devious grin crept up Alucard's face, and a look of mischief crossed his eyes. "Then I shall have to work hard, won't I? Understand, Walter, as I am hers, she is _mine. _The bond works both ways. And as if that doesn't give me claim to her,she's got all the qualities I desire.Once she's become the woman she's bound to..."

"Then what?" He hadn't figured in Alucard's love of a challenge. He may have just hurt his cause more than helped it.

"Then she'll be a dream come true."

"Be careful." He wasn't giving friendly advice; he was warning him. Although his face remained nearly expressionless, his voice conveyed his message clearly.

"I will be. She'll be perfect in no time."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." His lips curled mockingly, and he changed the position of his face from a sidelong glance to an outright turn. His eyes met the butlers, and locked.

They looked at each other, grinning vampire and concerned butler, and stopped walking. They stood by the door to Alucard's dungeon, sizing up the intentions of the other. Soon, Walter gave in.

"Then you'll have her. But know that I won't make it easy for you."

"I'm counting on it."

The game was on.

-----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This chapter seemed to have run away from me. It kept meaning to end, and then just kept going. Must be the fact I'm writing in a moving car. That always keeps the creativity coming. Oh well. Consider it repayment for the amount of time you had to wait for it.


	4. I hate you

A/N

Oh. Emm. Gee. I'm alive. Oh yes. Its true. I really am. I got a new person reading, so I decided to celebrate by finishing this chapter...which I started a couple of months ago. So if the quality of writing suddenly boosts somewhere in the middle, that's why. I'm having a hard time being motivated lately, especially with it being my senior year and all. So I may update soon, I may not. But the best way to get updates is to leave lots of pretty reviews. Elin loves reviews. Oh yes she does.

No moral this time around, I'm afraid, just pure, outright random zaniness. Or sadism. You choose.

**"I Hate You"**

There are always days when you wake up in the morning, and some small thing goes wrong. And, being aware of Murphey's Law, you just know the rest of the day is only going to be worse. The young Hellsing was more than familiar with these days. Not only that, but she was having one of them.

It started with the usual simple routine. Integra shut off her alarm, dragged herself out of bed, and shuffled to the bathroom. A knob turn, a squeeze, and she was brushing her teeth. She pushed the toothbrush back and forth over her pearly whites, creating a lather and foam inside her mouth. Leaning over the sink, she spit the paste into the sink--and her hair. With a disgusted groan, she yanked some tissue off the roll and cleaned it out as best she could. Luckily, she was going to take a shower anyway.

Drifting across the room to the bathtub, another twist of a knob produced a roar from the gushing water. Integra sat on the edge, waiting for some steam to indicate it growing warm. And she waited. And waited. Impatiently, she thrust her hand into the steady stream, and pulled it back with a yelp. The water was ice cold. A quick glance confirmed that she did, indeed, have the water on a warm setting.

"_WALTER!!!!!"_

"Yes, My lady," he responded evenly, though she could barely hear his muffled voice through the door.

"Where's--where's all the hot water?!"

"I'm afraid the water heater broke early this morning before you arose, Miss Hellsing."

Integra felt like crying. Not only did she have toothpaste residue in her hair, but she was going to have to take a freezing shower. Going without a wash was out of the question. Sighing, she stepped carefully into the tub and closed the shower curtain. She fiddled with the knobs to turn on the showerhead, until she felt the weight of something wet on her ankles. Her gaze fell to her ankles where cotton pajama bottoms hung, soaking up the water that pooled around them. She yelped, stumbling out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor with a soft "thud". Gingerly, she rubbed her bottom. That was going to bruise.

She yanked off her pajamas, then set her resolve on getting in and taking the quickest, most efficient shower she'd ever taken.

Her flesh rippled and tensed under the water. Her body shook from the cold, but she managed to lather and rinse her hair without too much difficulty. She soaped up. She considered skipping the conditioner for the sake of time, but knew that her hair would be just that much harder to brush when she got out if she did. Her outstretched hand grasped the bottle, bringing it up from its resting place. It didn't stay in her hand long. Before she could process what was happening, it slipped from her hande and landed on her foot. A suprised exclamation escaped her throat. Instinctively, she simutaneously bent to grasp her foot and brought up her knee to make the reaching easier. Soap pooled in the water behind her. On impulse, she turned a little in this awkward position-- just enough to send her falling to the floor. Three falls and buckets of cold water later, her hair was finally rinsed.

Face twisted in pain and humiliation, she groped for her towel. It lay just beyond her reach. She could feel the soft cloth brushing her fingertips as she tried in vain to grasp onto it. Her fingers went up, down. Up, and down again. If only she could just get it to move--a little farther---this way----

A triumphant grin spread across her face when she felt the towel slide, away from the bar and right-

Onto the floor.

And so, shivering and dripping wet, poor young Integra stepped out of the shower. Water dripped from her hair and body, forming little pools on the floor beneath her. Ignoring the puddles, Integra snatched up her towel and wrapped it around herself. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make this day worse than it already was.

Until she noticed the red tint in the water around her. She shrieked and pulled corner of her towel away from her body, looking for where she must have gashed herself. Blood was dripping down the inside of her thighs.

With wide eyes, she jerked her head up to stare with horror into the mirror. Not possible. It just wasn't possible. She was only---well, yes, she was thriteen, but...nevermind. She didn't have time to deal with it. She was already running late and she had a meeting with the other knights within the hour. Hurridly, she cleaned herself with a washcloth, all the while chewing her lip over the knowledge that poor Walter was going to have to make sure it didn't stain.

Time to get dressed. She double-checked her pile of clothes that she had brought in with her, making sure every necessary item was there; she sighed in relief upon finding they were. Now, she was sure that she had some feminine items somewhere for when this did eventually happen...

Five minutes later, the contents of every cabnet in the bathroom had been searched. Many things had been carelessly thrown to the floor in the quest to find what she needed. Still, she came away empty-handed. Apparently, she wasn't as well prepared for this as she had thought. The bathroom was a mess, she had very little time left to get ready, and if she didn't think of something quick, she was going to bleed all over the inside of her pants.

For lack of anything else in sight that might work, she grabbed a wad of toilet paper and stuck it in the croch of her underwear. Hoping that would do the trick for the time being, she pulled her clothes on. The wad was uncomfortable, and felt more than a bit strange, but she would have to deal with it for now.

She did a quick brush-through of her hair, or as quick of one as she possibly could. Keeping her hair the length that she did added sacrifices of time and convenience. The longer one's hair, the higher the required matenience.

Integra sighed. Reaching out to the doorknob, her hand grasped the moist metal and twisted. The water made it slick, and her hand twisted, but the door remained closed. Grumbling, she grabbed her towel, placed it on the knob, and twisted again. The door didn't budge. Her brows furrowed. What on earth was wrong? She shifted her weight and pushed against the door, once more twisting the knob.

Nothing.

"WAAAALLLTEEEEEERR!!!" she cried. "Walter, the stupid door won't open!" She continued to shove unsuccessfully, until she tired, and slumped against the door. She let out an exhuasted sigh. The day hadn't even truly started, and her alloted amount of energy for the day was spent. She sighed loudly in frustration, and let her head fall back against the door- except it met with the floor as the door behind her gave way. She landed on her back with an "Umph!", and lay for a moment staring up at the confused butler above her.

"The door wouldn't open," she mumbled, almost in tears. Her back stung from the sudden impact, and much worse than her physical pain was the pain of her humiliation.

"Integra," Walter said slowly, a look of concern on his face, " The door gave me no problems whatsoever."

"Well, it wouldn't open!" she cried indignantly, sitting up, anger flashing into her eyes. "I twisted and turned and pushed and the door wouldn't open!"

Walter looked at her quizzically before shaking his head. He held a hand out to her, which she gladly accepted and was pulled to her feet. She brushed herself off, hoping there wouldn't be too many wrinkles in her pants after this.

" I hate to be the bearer of bad news that will only make your morning worse," he stated(she gave him a glare that said, you have no idea), "But you _do _remember you have a council meeting in fifteen minutes, don't you?"

Integra's eyes grew wide. "W-What?" she managed to choke out.

"It's been scheduled for weeks, milady."

She nearly choked on her spit. After a second of letting the information sink in properly, she grabbed her hairbrush and ran to the kitchens, hoping to grab a small morsel for breakfast; toast with marmalade, if nothing else.

As luck would have it, the kitchen was abandoned, and the young girl knew nothing of where things were stored. Knowing that each second she spared was one less that she had to get to that meeting, she mournfully headed towards the council room on an empty stomach.

0o0

The meeting was (or seemed to be) worse than usual. The knights chastised her, practically insulted her to her face, and made comments about the rudeness of "children these days". Integra was irritable; it wasn't her fault if they happened to provoke her into a heated remark or two. They may have been older, but she was under the impression that the one who led Hellsing was also the leader of the council. She'd have to ask Walter, of course, but it didn't change the fact that they were purposely extra mean to her today, as if nothing else could go wrong.

The meeting dragged on for hours. About halfway through, they were inturrupted by a maid bringing lunch. Integra had grimaced at the food selection; not a single thing was on her favorite foods list, or even a list of foods acceptable to her particular pallete. Nevertheless, hunger will drive even the pickiest of eaters to eat whatever is offered, so she wolfed down the provided nourishment without complaint. If she had gone much longer without food, her stomach would audibly start protesting, and it would only serve to once again give the knights reason to think her incapable.

The convention adjourned in the late afternoon. Integra had wearily dragged herself out of the chair she'd been seated in all day, and stretched. First her arms, then her back, and finally her legs, all the way down to her toes. She was exhausted. Although she was once again hungry, she seriously considered skipping supper and heading right to bed. She didn't feel all that well, and all day long she'd had to fight to maintain a straight expression, although her stomach was cramping badly and she wanted to curl into the fetal posistion and make the world leave her alone. She groaned as she remembered the reason for it; she'd have to ask Walter for the correct products soon, though at the moment she didn't care if her entire wardrobe became stained as long as she could get a good night's sleep, starting much earlier than usual. Her body ached all over, and the best thing she'd found to do when such a thing happened was to head to bed for the rest of the day and through the night. She expected to have impressive bruises by the next day, although she was hardly concious of this at the moment; she was tired and stressed to the point where she couldn't hold onto a thought much longer than it took to process it. If anyone so much as had the audacity to act as though the world was a good place, they would be liable to have a bullet through them.

As per usual, Alucard had some of the worst timing in the world.

He melted out of the shadows of the corridor ahead of her, and cheerily waved in her direction. A huge grin slipt his face as he walked to meet her. Integra fixed him with a scathing glare, one that made him stop in his tracks with confusion, and in the most vehement tones she could muster, she told him those three little words she'd been longing to say to someone all day.

"I _hate _you!"

She stormed off past him, shoving him out of the way, although he was only half so. She didn't even notice as Walter came up behind the vampire. Alucard watched after her, brows furrowed in confusion, then looked at Walter, back to his master, and finally returning to the butler. For the first and last time, his next bewildered words were justified.

"What'd I do?"


	5. Trust

This probably-depressing addition is dedicated to anyone still following this.

Cheers.  
o0o0o0o0o

BANG.

The bullet hit closer to the target's "head" this time, but was still too far to the left. The rest of the target contained holes in various places, some hardly a wound and others, while not necessarily lethal, would seriously incapacitate a real target. Never once could they seem to find the heart or the head; the normally steady hand couldn't stop the shaking that put the shots so off-course.

Unbrushed blonde hair fell into blue eyes and glasses slipped a little further down a strait, slightly sloped nose as the girl's head tilted forward. The gun dropped to her side as she slid down the wall behind her to crumple into a heap of awkwardly proportioned legs and arms. Though she wore a white cotton nightdress, leaving goose bumps to form up her arms in the cool autumn air, she made no motion to seek warmer rooms. Her hand tilted the gun up again, safely pointed away, as she searched for the safety lock. Once it was turned on, she allowed the gun to clatter to the ground, ignoring the way the loud sound broke the silence of the night. A tear slipped down one cheek, then the other, before her gloved hand angrily pushed them away and she unsuccessfully willed her lip to stop quivering.

"Surely my master isn't crying over a poor session on the range."

Integra hurriedly combed her hair down with her hands and wiped her face once more, putting on the best mask she could muster. She fumbled to readjust her nightdress for modesty, though she had no idea how long he may have been watching and consequently may have seen anyway.

"I'm not crying," she protested unconvincingly.

"Ah, of course not. Perhaps the English should find a more specific word. It's like a drizzle on your face, rather than the full thunderstorm."

The coat materialized first, then the body, and the dark black hair. Although her position was undignified, Integra made no move to stand as acknowledgement of his presence. Instead, she looked away, as though indifferent. Alucard cocked his head in response. His eyes flicked over her disheveled state, then settled himself on the ground a foot away.

"Why are you out here so late?"

Integra swallowed the lump in her throat. She considered answering him, ran over the many plausible reasons she could give, and eventually decided on silence as the best course of action. She kept her head turned away, focusing on a spot on the horizon where the sun would rise in a few short hours.

Alucard, however, seemed unsatisfied with her unresponsiveness. He reached a hand over to touch the still-tussled blonde locks, eliciting a small hand wave to ward off the approach. He ignored the feeble attempt and brushed back the bangs from her forehead, tucking them slightly behind her tiny ear. The gesture seemed curiously tender to Integra, who couldn't recall any point in which they'd purposely touched—or accidentally, for that matter. It surprised her to know that the hand which pushed through the hearts of vampire targets could be gentle, as well. Sudden rage swelled in her as she considered that he may be luring her into a false sense of security, intentionally trying to throw her off balance.

"You should be in bed, resting for another day of duties for this organization."

"_FUCK_ this organization," Integra growled.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." The voice, normally so patronizing or gleeful, contained a sobriety that Integra had not yet heard in the nearly two years that she'd known him. Another surprise. Another indication that he may be sincere. Maybe.

"Tell me, master, why the sudden change of heart? You've always been so proud to carry on the legacy."

"It doesn't matter. A _vampire _wouldn't understand."

"Mm," he replied. The September breeze ruffled his hair as his eyes remained trained on her for a moment longer, then settled on the target range ahead of them. His face remained relaxed, save for a slight knit in the brow line. A moment passed. Then another. And another.

"Even vampires understand pain."

"I'm not in pain," the teenager snarled.

Alucard made no move to make eye contact with her, instead nodding to the riddled sheet of cardboard. "Then perhaps master should consider apologizing to Timmy the Target."

Integra choked on the unwanted, unexpected laugh that burbled up her throat. A small smile touched the corners of Alucard's mouth, before fading back into a contemplative expression.

Integra pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees and keeping her eyes locked on the ground. A pregnant pause hung in the air between them. The breeze came through again, sending a small shiver up her spine, prompting her to swallow the secrets that would spill out with her words. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to tell anyone. It would be like handing the key to the vault filled with her weaknesses, and she couldn't afford that. She couldn't tell. Still, in the deepest part of her heart, she didn't want to hold it in. She didn't want to be alone.

To his credit, Alucard continued to sit quietly beside her, mimicking a modified version of her pose, with knees up and arms stretched across the corresponding one, hanging loosely in ahead of him.

"You could just pull it from my mind," she finally murmured.

"I could." He watched her pull herself tighter into a fetal position, grasping the edges of her nightie as if bracing herself for unwanted probing. Warding against the inevitable. "But I won't," he finished.

She blinked over to him in surprise. "Why not?"

Alucard turned to meet her gaze squarely, the corners of his mouth tilted down and his eyes lacking their usual mocking mirth. When he spoke, his tone was laced with reproach and, perhaps, a light sprinkle of insult.

"There are some things that even I still consider sacred."

"She left me," Integra blurted, then instinctively covered her mouth with her wrist as she settled her leaking eye against the back of her hand.

Alucard nodded next to her.

"She left me," she continued shakily, then stopped again.

Ten minutes of silence passed between them. Alucard remained perfectly still, though Integra alternated between shaking, opening her mouth, closing it, and hugging her legs closer to her developing chest. Alucard had seen many fragile souls in his lifetime, but few that were so strong reduced to such a fragile state. The confidence of daylight had faded from her, her normally tea-and-milk colored skin pale with moonlight and inner turmoil. The younger, repressed version of herself had resurfaced; this time, it held none of the defiance that had led her to his cell. Next to him sat a broken girl who missed a nameless, faceless woman.

"It's because of Hellsing." The blue eyes returned mournfully to the glowing red ones. "It's because of you. Not you. _Vampires_. She hated it. She didn't want it. She didn't want _me_." The fourteen year old finally broke and began to sob into her knees. Her fingers tore the fabric closest to the hem, pulling out a seam as she tugged at it violently. Indistinct screams were muffled through the fabric and her legs, but they echoed in the stone enclosure.

"I was FIVE," she eventually continued, screeching edging into her voice. "What kind of person leaves a five year old? _Why wasn't I good enough?_"

"You were never 'not good enough', master," Alucard told her softly.

"I wasn't! I wasn't _good enough_ to make her stay, or make her take me with her. I hate her! And I miss her," Integra wailed,before anger flickered over her eyes and a growl crept into the mournful cries. "And I _hate_ her!"

Alucard held a gloved hand out to his master. She peeked at it uncertainly for a moment, her eyes darting to them and away from them. She looked to his face. He nodded once, a small, solemn gesture. Integra reached her hand out to take his, locking them together for a moment while she squeezed tightly and he squeezed gently—but firmly—back. A moment later, the tiny body collapsed into his chest and beat on it as he remained still, save for a small tightening of his arms around the crumbled curvature of her frame.

They stayed like that for hours. He held her as she shook, and as she cried herself out. He held her as her breathing gradually became less erratic and slipped into the steady rhythm of sleep. Held her as the sun rose and his eyes began to ache slightly, but he watched it as it rose and warmed the air. He carried her inside, up to her room, and laid her in bed.

As he turned to leave, he saw the aged, yellowing picture resting on the nightstand. In it was a woman, looking away from the camera as she puffed a dwindling cigarette, legs crossed and her free arm resting casually against the arm of the wicker chair in which she sat. Her skin was a light mocha, and her hair was dark. Her face looked to be an Indian mix; not uncommon in light of the centuries of India's occupation by the British and the frequency of upper-class marriages into British society. A tea-length floral dress flirted with her kneecaps. And there, beside the chair, a little blonde head poked out, with a chubby little arm reaching for the woman's hand, but not quite grasping it. The tiny girl looked to be about two years of age. Alucard picked it up, studying it a moment longer before flipping it to its slightly browned backside.

There, in careful script, probably male and similar to what he remembered Arthur's being, was a simple notation.

_Elizabeth and Integra, 1978_

"Don't let her define you, Integra," he murmured. A thousand images of his own childhood flashed through his head, and he tucked the image into a bottom drawer, where she may someday find it, but not for some time.

"You are more than what she did. You are glorious."

He swept out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him before he strolled back to the shadows of his dungeon.

o0o0o0o

Integra woke the next morning with indistinct words echoing softly in her mind.

_You are glorious._

The picture was gone, she noticed. And the blankets had been tucked around her. She felt better. The burden was no longer hers alone. She'd found someone she could trust.


End file.
